We Came for Hatebreed. We Left Escuela Grind Fans.
By Emily (Mily) Ward - July 29, 2025
You don’t end up opening for Hatebreed by playing it safe.
Escuela Grind took the stage on July 8, 2025, with the ferocity of a band that knows exactly how un-welcome they are in certain corners of the metal world. They grind harder because of it due to the genre still haunted by macho postering and performative apathy. Escuela Grind stormed in with leftist politics, a trans guitarist, and a vocalist who’d rather wear a girly skirt and sh*t on the system than play nice.
We covered the St. Petersburg show fully expecting to come home and write about Hatebreed’s legacy – but left Escuela Grind fans. Their set didn’t just help warm up the crowd – it tore off the roof (if there was one at Jannus Live) and left a mark we’re still feeling.
Photo by Emily Ward @mily_media
Riffs churned like gears grinding through concrete and frontperson Katerina Economou stalked the stage with venom and purpose. Between songs, they amped the crowd up and urged fans to mosh harder than they ever had before. They took the space with breakdowns that cracked open the pit and vocals that felt more like exorcisms than performances – bodies flew and heads banged.
Photography by Emily Ward @mily_media
Photography by Emily Ward @mily_media
If Katerina was the voice of the storm, guitarist Krissy Morash was the lightning strike. She played like she had something to burn down – every riff was delivered with hair whipping, sweat dripping, and a labubu flying around while clipped to the right side of her belt. We couldn’t take our eyes off her – not just because she was shredding with surgical precision, but because you could feel the catharsis in every note. Krissy, a trans artist in one of the most notoriously macho music genres, didn’t just hold her ground – she owned it. Watching her rip through Escuela Grind’s set felt revolutionary.
In a place where the government is actively trying to erase people like Katerina, Escuela Grind doubled down. Their performance felt like a middle finger to fear with lyrics such as “Access my mind through all its windows / Not through my hormones nor through my skin tone” and “The concept of god only exists… because of people” – in Florida’s sociopolitical climate, this cut deep. You could hear their passion in every guttural lyric and every hair flip – and you could feel the room shift. In a scene allergic to politics unless its vague rage or war metaphors, this kind of clarity is rare – yet necessary. If you’re really paying attention, you’ll realize that they are just tapping into the true roots of punk and grind: rebellion and resistance.
Their set didn’t just sound amazing, it felt like something. To us at Hard Launch, a music publication built by LGBTQ creatives, Escuela Grind felt like a hug and a middle finger at the same time. This was a band daring you not to listen – we heard something real. The metal scene can often feel like a cosplay rebellion and Escuela Grind doesn’t need the theatrics. Their defiance was lived, embodied, and earned. They carved space in a genre that’s eager to shut them out – and they did it all in under 45 minutes with more intent and passion than most bands do in their entire tour cycle.
We came to review Hatebreed – but what we witnessed wasn’t an opener, it was an awakening.
